


I Got my Love to Keep me Warm

by semisweet



Category: Donald Strachey Mysteries (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Music, Cold Weather, Fluff, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 19:57:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semisweet/pseuds/semisweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas preparations don't go as Timothy has hoped. Maybe for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Got my Love to Keep me Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yue_ix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yue_ix/gifts).



> Spoilers for Ice Blues.
> 
> Merry Christmas! Joyeux Noël!

* * *

Why did things never go as planned? Living with someone as unpredictable as Donald, Timothy had learned to adjust and accept to see his plans thwarted. When came December, he longed for calmness and comfort. He pictured Donald and him in the coziness of their home, sipping eggnog and humming _The 12 days of Christmas_ — he had to explain the religious background behind the lyrics to Donald each year, a waste of time and effort as he never remembered the account—while they perpetuated his favorite tradition since their first yuletide together, the trimming of the tree, an art he mastered to perfection dixit Donald, though Timothy understood the flattering remark as a means to slip away from an activity Donald considered more like a chore. Timothy did not mind decorating it by himself. Somehow, it revealed how Donald and he completed each other. One showed aptitude in indoors activities, house design and housekeeping; the other had a gift for outdoors actions like gardening and mechanics.

Despite Donald’s hectic schedule, they had found an hour to get a tree and bring it home themselves tucked on Donald’s car, which by some miracle only possible at this time of year had agreed to start and drive them to their neighborhood. Timothy would never forget dragging the tree along the last block, berating himself for insisting on picking the biggest one that could fit into their living-room. Donald knew better than to talk him out of it, and later bit his lips to utter words of apology about the unexpected demise of their means of transportation. If only Santa could fill Donald's stocking with a brand new sports car!

To beg for forgiveness Donald offered to visit the Holidays Gift Market so they would spend some quality time together shopping for last minute presents—a pleasant way to put behind any leftover resentment. Timothy approved, counting on another whim from Donald’s car that would leave them stranded on the curb once more and force them back home to take care of the Christmassy business he had planned. The tree needed to dry from the snow it gathered during its journey to join its new dwelling, but Timmy’s to-do-list comprised other items. One consisted in organizing the Christmas dinner menu, another one in writing Christmas cards to their friends and co-workers, and one that required skill and patience, wrapping up the gifts. The car started right away to Timothy’s disappointment, his Christmas wish of bringing some of the spirit and feeling of the season to their house vanishing into the icing air of the Albany streets.

Muffled up in his thickest coat, his favorite gloves warming his hands, Timothy held his dog tight, the small body shivering in his arms. He almost regretted his decision to get Dr. Watson out in such weather. Sidewalks still sheltered spots of snow, synonym of danger for such a small creature. He would have to keep a closer eye on his little guy. Donald parked the car and they headed towards the entrance, joining the crowd of families—children, parents, grandparents—all breathing the joyful spirit of the holidays. A young man dressed as an elf offered candy canes to visitors and a teenage girl handed over boughs of mistletoe. Donald accepted one, sending her his best smile, causing her cheeks to turn crimson. Donald’s charms, often appealing to women, could be rather intimidating to an adolescent.

Stalls selling all sorts of articles spread out in front of them along a winding path of lights. They strolled past shops of all size and nature, stopping for a free cup of hot cocoa the smiling saleswoman of a chocolate store poured to anyone who asked for one, a clever tactic to entice customers to buy her products. The sweet scent of sugar lead them into temptation, Timothy paying for two gingerbread men they nibbled with their chocolate beverages. Two or three stalls further, they gazed at an Irish jewelry seller, Donald suggesting they buy Timothy’s sister something. For the first time since they had reunited, Kelly would come over for the holidays. He took comfort in the idea of them together again after so long, though the pressure of making a good impression rendered him more stressed than usual at this period of the year. After some mature consideration, they settled their choice on a pendant representing a Celtic symbol similar to the tattoo she sported at the back of her neck.

Timothy reveled in the atmosphere. People looked peaceful, calm and happy, such a striking contrast to the mall its strident sounds, sullen faces and lack of conviviality. Here, it felt like boundaries had melted. Men and women shared their good mood and holiday greetings as the most natural thing in the world. A little girl found in Dr. Watson the dog she dreamed about and asked Timothy for the permission to take a picture of them together so she could send it to Santa. He nodded, and Donald proposed to play photographer—he had enough experience in his occupation—and commented that technology changed even the oldest traditions. In their younger days, Santa would have had to make do with a drawing of a puppy. She patted and kissed Watson one last time and waved them goodbye, hurrying to show her mother the precious picture. If Santa had given her a cell phone, chances were he would not object to a doggie.

The prospect of Christmas brought back social interaction. An old lady selling her hand-made Christmas ornaments and knitted scarves and quilts called after them. Timothy approached and conversed with her, listening to her advice on how to craft bows with strips of paper and staples. Before he left, he purchased a little angel made of matches and cotton swabs, perfect for their soon-to-be-trimmed tree. A profusion of thank yous on her part brought tears to his eyes. He suspected the poor woman lived alone, surviving with a meager pension and needing a second job to make ends meet. Christmas also begot that kind of feelings, the reminder that misery surrounded them every day, a transparent presence around those more fortunate. A crazy idea erupted in his mind; they could invite her to share their Christmas meal. Each year, half of the dinner leftovers ended in the freezer. If their food could fill one more stomach….

Timothy was about to suggest this idea to Donald, but when he turned, no sight of him. He looked around, trying to make out his figure in the avalanche of passers-by all dressed in wintry tones. The wind rose. The snow would soon follow. Watson tugged at his leash, wagging his tail and yapping in the opposite direction. Timothy wondered what could have set him up. He never showed such behavior. He put the blame on the weather. Maybe he felt a storm coming up? Animals had a flair for detecting meteorological conditions. He should better find Donald quick before the climate worsened. Watson prompted him to advance through the shoppers and strollers.

A gathering in the center of the market intrigued him enough that he came to a halt, interested in finding out the reason behind it. People hurried under a huge tent. He elbowed his way through the crowd to reach the sign pinned next to the entry. The warmth of his breath steamed up his glasses. Too lazy to wipe off the condensation, he deciphered enough words from the poster to get the gist. It compiled a list of all the animations set to take place at the market. The organizers had invited magicians, acrobats and musicians among other numbers set to perform. He checked his watch. The representation of the day would start any minute, now. A free Christmas concert! He would love to attend. Donald knew too well his fondness for traditions, his love for music, and his soft spot for Christmas tunes; he would know where to find him. Although, a text message sufficed to change that probability into a certitude. He took off his glove to get his cell phone out of his pocket, and typed his message before his finger froze off. _I’m at the Christmas concert. The big tent in the middle. Where are you?_ The second he shoved the phone back in its place, he felt it vibrate. He opened it to read the short answer, _Behind you._ He frowned, and before he could spin on himself he felt lips brushing his cheek.

“Someone missed me?” Donald’s voice said, a puff of hot air tickling Timothy’s ear, the sensation rather pleasurable.

“I always miss you. You should know that, by now. Where have you been?”

Donald grabbed Timothy’s forearm and guided him through a back entrance. Timothy avoided looking back at the people freezing outside, still waiting in the line to get inside. Did Donald manage to get front seats? And how?

“Honey, please. Is this even allowed?” Except for that one time when he sneaked into the company Lenigan & Lenigan, snooping around to find something to help Donald solve the case he himself had hired him to solve, he never did these things, cut the line, take a place he hadn’t reserved. They taught you these things in P.I. class and the exact opposite at the seminary.

When they got settled on their seats in the front row, on a cold, uncomfortable wooden bench that somehow mitigated their crime a little, at least to Timothy’s standards, he got Donald to explain.

“While you were chatting with the quilts lady, I overheard someone mention a Christmas concert. I asked them about it. You won’t believe it. Kenny’s boyfriend sings in that choir.”

“What a small world!” Timothy said, hoping Donald would catch the irony in his tone. The thought that it might have been one of Donald’s secret Christmas surprises did occur to him for a second, and despite recognizing Kenny’s efficiency as a work partner, allowing Donald more relaxing time at home, he did not understand why he always had to come up in conversation that did not revolve around work.

“He’s been bitching all week about the rehearsal cutting on their free time, and by that he meant sex time. Yep, a sexually frustrated Kenny is not a pretty sight!”

Timothy wondered how that particular kind of frustration would look on either one of them. “I can imagine.”

The beginning of the recital cut short their discussion.

They listened to the choir, a group of eight men and twelve women singing the most popular carols, the audience humming along as encouraged. Timothy loved Donald’s carefree attitude, but more so when he did not mind inquisitive eyes. He rested his head on his shoulder when they stroke up _the 12 days of Christmas_ letting Timothy’s mind drift a little, lulled by the harmony of the singers' voices. Curiosity made him cast each one of the male vocalists as Kenny’s beau. Two candidates stood out, a stocky guy wearing glasses and short hair, and a tall dread-locked one with a smile almost as perfect as Donald’s. Kenny Kwon had good taste in men. His eyes searched for him in the assembly, and spotted him next to the stage on the left, mouthing the lyrics, a look of complete adoration painted on his face. Timothy figured he must lit up in that same fashion when he admired Donald. Love! The best Christmas present. Loud applause jolted Timothy back to reality, and Watson awake as they started singing _This Christmas_ for an encore.

_And this Christmas will be a very special Christmas for me…_

The concert ended, and the listeners scattered. Kenny had left, too, most likely gone to congratulate his lover on his brilliant performance; though Timothy hoped Donald would make the introductions, just for the sake of finding out if he had a future in fortune-telling or any matchmaking skills.

“So what did you think, Timmy?” Donald asked, hope in his eyes. Even a word astray or a mixed review would put a damper on his enthusiasm.

“Lovely concert,” he said, trying to sound sincere; the false starts and accuracy of interpretation already a fuzzy memory.

“I thought so, too. And I know your love for this type of events!”

Donald trying his best to please him was so endearing.

People had wandered off, and they found themselves alone, save for two employees cleaning up after people, wrappers, cans, tissues…. It reminded him of what Donald’s office used to look like. “Tell me, Darling, will this Christmas be a very special Christmas for you?”

“Timmy! Christmas is always special when I’m with you.”

“That comment, despite its cheesiness, did warm my heart.”

“Anytime Sweetheart.” Donald pulled him into a tight embrace, as tight as he could, given their current clothing. “You know I can warm other parts, too!” Donald’s lips displayed a wicked smile, so arousing to Timothy he chose to look away.

“I would like that. At home! At the feet of the tree.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Timmy?” Donald took his hand and accelerated the pace. “Quick. Let’s get you home before you change your mind!”

As they exited the marquee, they stumbled upon Kenny, and the new and already famous boyfriend who, up close looked more charming despite his Santa hat, matching Kenny's. Contender number two had won the prize.

“Kenny Kwon, what a coincidence!” Donald might fool some people when working undercover, but not the person with whom he lived.

“Baby, this is my boss, Donald Strachey and his partner Timothy Callahan.”

They shook hands. Despite the gloves, Timothy felt the good grip of Bob Marley’s lookalike… if you squinted. “Nice to meet you Kenny’s boyfriend.”

“Lenny.”

“Well, Lenny this was a wonderful concert. You can be proud.”

“Thank you.”

Small talk over and done with, both couples went on with their day, one in each direction. Timothy loved how Donald could extricate himself out off any situation. He knew the prospect of a kinky tree decorating party gave him wings.

“Kenny and Lenny! Isn’t that meant to be?” That was worth a chuckle on Timothy’s part.

“Well, you can call me Donny if that makes you happy. Donny and Timmy. Has a nice ring to it.”

“I might take you up on that offer, Donny!”

Timothy clung to Donald, Watson back in his arms, sheltering them both from the icy blast. He agreed with Donald, the sooner they go home, the better. Observing Kenny and Lenny together, so in love, had moved him, and shifted his priority. It didn't matter if they had not trimmed the tree, it didn't matter if their family and friends would receive their Christmas cards one or two days late, it didn't matter if the presents still slept in their hiding places waiting for wrapping papers to embellish them.

Who said everything should be perfect on Christmas day?

After all, Donald made life perfect everyday of the year.

  
_The End_   


**Author's Note:**

> The original idea behind this story spread so far that I realized I would not be able to complete it on time as I had hoped. Therefore, I came up with an alternative ending. If you're interested in reading the original work, let me know, and I'll finish it for you.


End file.
